


Pitch Black

by noraholleran



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Cursed Child - Thorne & Rowling
Genre: Established Relationship, Explicit Consent, Fluff and Smut, Happy Sex, Harry Potter Next Generation, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Romance, Scorbus, they are both adults here btw
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-25
Updated: 2020-06-25
Packaged: 2021-03-04 07:28:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24909934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/noraholleran/pseuds/noraholleran
Summary: It’s the scent of Albus, familiar and intoxicating and surrounding him. It’s the reassuring feel of their bodies moving against each other. It’s the safe, strong embrace of Albus’s arms and the thrill of the small noises he makes, the subtle sighs and moans.Albus is late home from work, Scorpius is waiting up for him. It's pitch black, they're a bit sleepy, and very much in love.
Relationships: Scorpius Malfoy/Albus Severus Potter
Comments: 8
Kudos: 78





	Pitch Black

It’s pitch black when Albus finally gets home, and Scorpius takes a few seconds to register his presence in the room, to blink himself awake. He wasn’t asleep, not really, but it’s been fifteen minutes since he turned out the light and told himself that, for once, he ought to _not_ stay up until the early hours waiting for Albus’s shift to be over. This Ministry job is gruelling on them both, and every night when he settles under the covers by himself, he silently thanks Merlin that it’s only temporary.

Albus is moving softly, tiptoeing around the edge of the bed, and Scorpius stays still, letting Albus believe that he’s asleep for a few moments longer. He smiles to himself when he feels the familiar dipping of the mattress next to him and Albus gently lifting the duvet to clamber in alongside him. He hears Albus sigh, shuffling closer and then wrapping an arm around Scorpius from behind. He smells minty, like toothpaste, and clean, like freshly washed laundry. Scorpius closes his eyes and inhales, and lingers in the moment, feeling more comfortable than he’s felt all day. 

He’s almost dozing off again, his breathing growing slow and sleepy, when he feels Albus’s arm retract. He’s rolling over onto his back, pulling away, and the movement stirs Scorpius awake again. He turns over too, resting his head on Albus’s shoulder and one leg between Albus’s - what Albus fondly calls his ‘koala pose’. 

Albus laughs quietly. ‘I thought you were asleep.’

‘Was waiting up for you,’ Scorpius whispers back. 

Albus leans down and presses a kiss to Scorpius’s forehead. ‘You’ll be tired in the morning,’ he says in a low voice, and he brings one hand up to softly trace the line of Scorpius’s jaw. Scorpius can barely see the shape of him in the darkness, but his touch is feather-soft, and when Albus’s finger reaches his chin, he follows the instinct to lean up and return the kiss, on the lips this time. He can feel Albus smiling. 

Scorpius pauses for a second, leaving just millimetres between them, their foreheads together, the temperature beneath the covers rising. ‘I don’t care,’ he whispers, ‘About being tired in the morning.’ 

Albus mumbles something that might be ‘I love you,’ but the words are lost in the meeting of their lips as he leans in again. He kisses Scorpius deeply, fiercely, as though they’ve been apart for weeks not hours, one hand at Scorpius’s cheek and the other at his hip, light fingers playing with the hem of his pyjama shirt. 

In the absence of light every other sense seems heightened, and Scorpius can hear his heart beat as loud as if it were on the outside of his chest. Albus pulls, just a little, at Scorpius’s bottom lip with his teeth, and Scorpius’s pulse quickens. Albus’s hand edges its way beneath his shirt, stroking at the sensitive skin of his waist, and Scorpius’s heart races faster still. His own hands are busy exploring in the dark; charting their territory across the firm muscle of Albus’s upper arms, the tender hollow at the base of his throat, the soft curls of his hair.

Scorpius reaches around Albus, inches himself closer, pulling them together so they lie face to face. His thigh is pressed between Albus’s legs now, and when he moves it a little, he brushes against something firm and Albus makes an involuntary noise and it’s all Scorpius can do not to rip the clothes off him with his bare hands. It appears Albus is feeling the same, because he exhales and drops both hands to Scorpius’s waist, lifting his shirt and pulling it up over his shoulders in a well-practised motion. There’s more swift movement in the darkness, and when Albus leans back over him, Scorpius realises that he’s abandoned his own shirt too. Scorpius is grinning, and he fumbles in the blackness, reaching up to find Albus’s face and pull him down for a kiss. His skin ignites where it meets Albus’s, and it’s as though every part of Scorpius’s brain is waking up in turn, and swivelling to focus on the exquisite touch that only Albus seems to possess. 

He lets himself sink into the soft mattress, Albus leaning over him, matching the pressure of his lips on Scorpius’s to the tingling patterns he’s tracing on his torso with one feather-soft finger. If Scorpius had been harbouring any tension or stress from his day, it’s long forgotten now, and he feels wholly at peace - perhaps too relaxed, given that Albus pauses, hovering over him for a moment. 

Scorpius’s eyes flicker open, but he sees nothing other than deep blue-black night, and just the faintest, blurred silhouette. ‘What?’ he asks.

‘Do you want to? If you’re tired, if you’d rather sleep…’ Albus’s voice is quiet, edged with the slightest hint of concern. 

Scorpius snorts softly, rolling his eyes. ‘Of course I want to,’ he says, reaching up and stroking Albus’s shoulder, ‘I was just… relaxed. Enjoying myself.’ It’s a silly thing to say, he thinks, but it’s the truth. It’s evidently enough for Albus, who leans down once more, bringing their lips so close they’re almost touching. 

‘Well, if you were enjoying that...’ he says, with that familiar humour back in his voice, and before Scorpius can even think of replying he finds himself swept up in Albus’s fiercest kiss yet. Just for a second or two though, before Albus breaks them apart again. ‘...You’re gonna like what’s coming next,’ he continues, and now it’s Scorpius’s turn to be fierce, reaching up and running a hand through Albus’s hair, then pulling him down. 

Occasionally when kissing Albus, a distant little part of Scorpius’s mind wonders what it is exactly about the simple action of pressing their lips together that’s quite so enjoyable. But then the rest of his mind, the part firmly rooted in the present, reminds him: it’s so much more than just that. It’s the scent of Albus, familiar and intoxicating and surrounding him. It’s the reassuring feel of their bodies moving against each other. It’s the safe, strong embrace of Albus’s arms and the thrill of the small noises he makes, the subtle sighs and moans. It’s the soft tingle of his skin when Albus’s mouth moves down to his neck, then to his collarbone. It’s the shiver that dances up his spine when he feels a finger run underneath the waistband of his pyjamas. 

He does his best to keep his breathing steady as Albus scatters kisses down his torso, but he’s never been very good at that. By the time Albus is pressing a kiss to the skin at his navel, his pulse is thudding and he can’t tell if his eyes are open or closed. Then he feels Albus’s hands gently pulling at the drawstring of his trousers, and then lowering them, and then - _oh._ Albus’s lips are magic when they’re just on Scorpius’s mouth, but now - well, Scorpius feels as though his heart is beating so furiously it might rip through his chest. 

Albus starts out slow, teasing. He’s buried beneath the covers, one hand resting over the ridge of bone at Scorpius’s hip, the other working in tandem with his lips and his tongue to render Scorpius almost immobile. He just about manages to reach down in the darkness, fumbling a little before finding the thick curls of Albus’s hair and softly brushing through them with shaking fingers. Not to guide Albus’s movements - Merlin knows he doesn’t need any help with this - but for another point of contact between them. To try and communicate what he’s completely unable to put into words right now: _fuck, I love you._

Tingling warmth is spreading through him, from his core to the very tips of his fingers, and it’s only a few minutes until Scorpius becomes aware that Albus is bringing him perilously close to an edge. He’s been clenching his jaw, but between gulps of air he manages a whisper. ‘Al...bus..’

Albus pauses, and Scorpius feels the duvet shift as Albus looks up towards him. ‘Okay?’

‘Mm.’ Scorpius breathes slowly and deliberately, extending his arm to the side and searching blindly for something on the table at the side of the bed. 

Albus lets out a small laugh and shuffles back up the bed until he’s level with Scorpius. He runs a hand over Scorpius’s torso, up to his cheek, and kisses him deeply. ‘Let me,’ he breathes when he pulls back, and Scorpius nods. 

Albus props himself up on one elbow and reaches across Scorpius in the direction of the bedside table. Scorpius sinks back into the pillow and inhales, breathing in the intoxicating scent of him. He hears Albus shuffling things around on the bedside table in the dark, then the familiar pop of a small bottle opening. Albus draws back, and Scorpius can sense the motion of his hands as he fidgets with the bottle for a few seconds, then clicks it closed and drops it under the covers at his side. When his hands find their way down once more, it’s a touch of softest silk against his skin, and Scorpius is suddenly right back at the edge, his pulse racing in his ears. 

One of Scorpius’s favourite things about Albus has always been his hands. Years ago, before either of them had even been conscious of their feelings, he used to watch the way Albus twirled a quill between his thumb and forefinger, or carefully separated seeds and stems in Herbology lessons, and silently marvel at the deftness of his fingers. Now, he has an entirely new appreciation for what those hands can do. Albus’s touch is soft but precise, practised now but still able to undo Scorpius in a matter of minutes. 

Scorpius finds himself sighing as Albus moves down under the covers again, gently spreading Scorpius’s thighs and slotting himself in between. If Scorpius could see through the dark, he knows that Albus would be making his concentrating face - the extremely adorable, _extremely_ sexy expression he only pulls when he’s devoting his attention to this, to the careful, exquisite work of his fingers bringing Scorpius to the point they’re both aching for now. 

Soon, Scorpius is reaching for Albus in the dark, pulling him up to crush their lips together once more, shaky and smiling. Albus holds his weight with one arm, leaning just a few inches over Scorpius, his breathing heavy. 

‘ _Now,_ ’ Scorpius breathes into the dark. He can almost hear Albus grin. He presses a haphazard kiss to Scorpius’s forehead, and reaches down to manoeuvre himself between his legs. 

There’s a pause, and the black air seems alive with electricity, and Scorpius feels like this moment has lasted for decades. And then. 

When Albus starts to slowly push into him, Scorpius has to bite his lip, and it’s a few seconds before he remembers to breathe. There’s no pain - Albus always makes sure of it - but in the darkness and the quiet, the sheer force of sensation coursing through his veins is almost overwhelming. Albus’s hips begin to move and Scorpius barely stifles a whimper, bringing one hand up to cover his mouth. 

As Albus starts to move more steadily, he leans over Scorpius once more and lowers himself until their lips are almost touching. Scorpius reaches up and runs his hands over Albus’s shoulders and up into his hair, mapping every fibre of his body in disbelief that _he_ is the one who gets to call Albus his own. He shifts, lifting first one leg and then the other to wrap them both around Albus’s waist, angling his hips just a little so that Albus’s breath catches in his throat and he lets out a guttural noise so raw, so uninhibited that Scorpius could pass out. 

Albus buries his face in Scorpius’s neck, and his hand finds Scorpius’s against the pillow, and Scorpius’s mind is utterly, blissfully blank, aware of only one thing. Of Albus, on top of him, in him, filling him up and enveloping him and setting every nerve in him on fire. There is nothing but their steady rhythm in the dark, the feeling that all of time has been distilled to this very moment, to the low, urgent moan of his name and the hot breath against his skin. 

They move as one, and in the pitch black it’s almost like there’s no ceiling above them at all, only the night sky. Albus’s breathing is ragged and he raises his head just enough to kiss the corner of Scorpius’s mouth, and Scorpius pulls him closer and kisses him desperately back, and with one more shuddering movement together there are stars bursting behind his eyes and it’s like every constellation in the sky was made for them; like the air in their lungs and the atoms of space between their bodies and the love that’s burned into their very bones is celestial. 

In time, the stars burn out and their bodies still. Gradually the blood pounding through Scorpius’s veins starts to slow, and he feels Albus’s shoulders start to relax, and the darkness shrinks back to the size of their room. They pull apart a little, Albus rolling back onto his side, and ducking under Scorpius’s arm. Scorpius holds him close, pressing kisses to the top of his head and idly stroking the soft skin of his back with the tips of his fingers. They’re sweaty, and sticky, and sleepy, and entirely content, and as Albus starts to snore softly, Scorpius smiles into the darkness and thinks to himself that perhaps it wasn’t such a bad idea to stay up late after all.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! First time writing proper smut so I hope you enjoyed 😇


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